It happened that the cat met the fox in a forest, and as she thoughtto herself: 'He is clever and full of experience, and much esteemed inthe world,' she spoke to him in a friendly way. 'Good day, dear MrFox, how are you? How is all with you? How are you getting on in thesehard times?' The fox, full of all kinds of arrogance, looked at thecat from head to foot, and for a long time did not know whether hewould give any answer or not. At last he said: 'Oh, you wretchedbeard-cleaner, you piebald fool, you hungry mouse-hunter, what can yoube thinking of? Have you the cheek to ask how I am getting on? Whathave you learnt? How many arts do you understand?' 'I understand butone,' replied the cat, modestly. 'What art is that?' asked the fox.'When the hounds are following me, I can spring into a tree and savemyself.' 'Is that all?' said the fox. 'I am master of a hundred arts,and have into the bargain a sackful of cunning. You make me sorry foryou; come with me, I will teach you how people get away from thehounds.' Just then came a hunter with four dogs. The cat sprang nimblyup a tree, and sat down at the top of it, where the branches andfoliage quite concealed her. 'Open your sack, Mr Fox, open your sack,'cried the cat to him, but the dogs had already seized him, and wereholding him fast. 'Ah, Mr Fox,' cried the cat. 'You with your hundredarts are left in the lurch! Had you been able to climb like me, youwould not have lost your life.'

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